Date: Sat, 12 Feb 2000 03:29:49 -0000
From: Joseph Geldart
Subject: Bitter Poison 3
* Standard disclaimers apply. This story is mostly fiction
* although certain locations in the story do exist. As far as my
* knowledge there is no brothel up Addington Road and any
* resemblance of characters to people living or dead is purely
* coincidental.
*
* This story deals with some sensitive issues that could be
* considered unpleasant. Please don't consider the story about
* just a male prostitute, it is about his character as a whole
* and is more powerful than just j/o material. The following
* chapters will explain it in more detail.
*
* In no way does this story or the author condone rape or
* prostitution in any way, shape or form. These acts are sick and
* evil but are necessary for the plot line and character
* development only. If you wish to get your rocks off on them
* then please go elsewhere for your 'entertainment'
*
* Thanks for your emails kind readers :) I am glad that people
* are enjoying Bitter Poison. I love recieving feedback as it
* lets me know that people care about what I write and tells me
* how to improve. Please don't stop emailing me now. I hope to
* get more this time around :)
*
* If you wish to contact me then either email me at
* jgeldart@writers-alley.com or ICQ me at **MY CORRECT ICQ**
* #10446635. Apologies to those who got caught by my typo. :(
*
* I would appreciate constructive critisism of the story.
* Flames will be fed to Baal.
*
* Thanks go to Cold Mouse (my editor), Birgir (my backup editor
* :), Rob, Rebbeca, David (the Nifty Archivist,) Danny, Andrew,
* Matt, Dash and of course Maria as my sister and one of my
* closest friends.
*
* The author, Joseph Geldart, asserts his right to be identified
* as the author of this novel according to sections 77 and 78 of
* the Copyright Designs and Patents act 1988.
*
* PLEASE NOTE
* From this chapter in the parts will have published titles as
* well as numbers.
* The previous two chapters were named as well. Their titles were
* as follows:
* Chapter One: What We Seek
* Chapter Two: A Pain Alone
*
* Also, its from here that the plot lines start coming in. You
* will have to watch out for them since they are quite subtle
* here for the most part.
*
* Enjoy Chapter Three!
Bitter Poison
Chapter 3: Commercial Gain
--------------------------
"Money drives the world and commercial gain is above all else"
-- Grex Arnia
The early morning rush hour crowd moved like a pack through the
narrow streets and tall buildings of City. The relentless jabber
of the jet set into their mobile phones and the clickty clack
sound of their feet across the asphalt pavements and roads was
drowned out only by the smoky, black and choking roar of traffic
together with the wall of toots and horns as the crawling glut of
cars, buses and black cabs edged through between the offices of
banks and accountants. Holes in the ground were disgorging
themselves of waves of power dressed people as they emerged wide
eyed from the suffocating confines of the 8 am tube. Continuously
checking their Rolex watches they walked so as to show off the
best of their tailored suits, crisp cut and clean lined.
Clutching their expensive, black leather cases to their chest as
they navigated towards the shining steel and glass edifice that
housed their workspace be it office, cubicle or corner desk.
Andrew Johnson looked down at the crowds with a slight sneer as
he watched from his office high above the hustle and bustle of
the streets. Hearing a knock from his door he turned round and
sat down at his large walnut veneered desk. Getting hold of some
of the bone dry banking reports and starting to flick through
them he asked the knocker to enter. Looking up he smiled as he
saw the hour glass figure of his shapely secretary. Her short red
dress simply accentuated her curves as she walked into his
office. Grinning slightly as he looked up and down her body he
asked her what she wanted.
"Well I wanted to check you weren't getting all lonely here by
yourself," she replied seductively.
"Don't worry about that," he grinned, "We still have that weekend
in Paris coming up."
"I suppose," she sighed slightly before smiling once more, "Your
next client is due in a few minutes, a Mr Heep if I remember. I
have his file with me."
She handed him a half full foolscap folder and he began looking
through frowning slightly at times. Looking up he grinned once
more, "You had better get back to your desk."
Smiling, she walked back out of the room rocking her hips as she
went. Whistling slightly as his hungry eyes followed her as she
moved his mind began quickly constructing fantasies during the
few seconds it took for her to leave. Settling back down in his
huge black leather chair he turned to the folder and started
reviewing the contents.
After about fifteen minutes Andrew heard a triple thump on the
door. Looking up from the papers in front of him he shifted
slightly in the seat, "Come!"
The door opened gently and Jack shuffled awkwardly into the
office. Glancing around at the photo's and paintings framed on
the pastel blue walls he walked towards the large desk and
fiddled nervously with his shirt collar and tie as he waited for
the accountant to stand.
"Ah! Mr Heep!" Andrew exclaimed taking Jack's hand and shaking it
hard, "I see your balance is doing well. Don't be so nervous,
this is just routine. Take a seat."
Sitting down in one of the mahogany chairs on the other side of
the desk Jack smiled slightly and crossed his legs.
Andrew turned back to the papers strewn now across the surface of
the desk. Shuffling through them he withdrew one and glanced
quickly over it. Looking up he flashed a lightning quick smile,
"You really have been doing well. Your production seems to have
doubled. Heep Distribution is really a very healthy business. Now
I just have a few questions to settle the balance sheet for this
quarter."
Leaning back slightly, Jack flashed his own crocodile smile,
"Sure, go ahead."
Putting a pair of wire-rimmed, half-moon reading glasses on
Andrew turned back to the draft balance sheet in front of him,
"So I have a number for the petty cash and your debtors, did you
bring the value of your current stock like I asked?"
"Uh, yes," Jack rummaged around in his jacket pocket for a few
moments before producing a slip of yellow paper, "Here you go."
"Thank you. Hmm," Andrew raised his eyebrows and scribbled on the
draft, "I see you also brought the current value of your
holdings."
He scribbled for a few more moments before looking up, "If you
give me a few moments to enter these figures in on the computer I
will have the sheet for you to sign and we will be able to send
it off to Company House today."
Turning to the computer on his desk Andrew started tapping a
staccato rhythm on the keyboard. Jack waited for a minute looking
around the room at the certificates that prominently adorned the
wall on his right by the large mahogany veneered bookcase with
the black and red leather bound books. Letting his eyes wander he
was abruptly brought to attention by Andrew's baritone voice, "My
secretary will be in shortly with the sheet for you to sign."
At that moment the large door opened again and admitted the
secretary in her red dress holding a few sheets of paper. Andrew
took the sheets and dismissed her with a nod, "Thank you Miss
Evesham."
Returning the nod, Miss Evesham walked out shutting the door
quietly behind her. Andrew flicked through the slightly warm,
crisp sheets and placed one of them down on the desk. Pointing to
the bottom of the page he asked, "Could you sign your name here
please in black ink?"
Pulling a pen out of his pocket, Jack quickly scribbled his
signature at the bottom of the form and underlined. Flicking his
eyes once more down the piece of paper Andrew smiled once more
and proffered his hand to Jack who took it and they shook once
more, "I will send this off to Company House today. Thanks for
coming."
Andrew led Jack to the door and opened it for him wishing him
goodbye before closing it behind him. Walking back to his desk he
began tidying the papers back into the folder. After he was
satisfied that it was in order he pressed the call button and
waited for his secretary to come in. A few moments later she
shuffled back into the room smiling, "Yes sir?"
"Sue, could you re-file this folder and send a copy of this
balance sheet off to Company House? Let me just sign the covering
letter. One moment."
Taking a pen out of the black pot on his desk he briefly
scribbled on the top sheet of the sheaf which he then handed to
her. Just as she turned to leave he smirked, "Sue," she turned
back to him, "Why don't you come back here in about 20 minutes
for another bonus."
She raised he eyebrows slightly before grinning and left. He
immediately turned back to the desk and picked up the phone's
receiver before tapping out a number. The phone rang for a few
beats before someone on the other end picked up.
"Oh hello dear," he spoke into the mouthpiece, "I have the number
of the hotel in which the conference is."
He listened for a few seconds, "Yes I know it is going to be a
pain but I really should attend."
Listening for a beat or two more he replied, "I will bring back
something for you and Robert though."
Another pause, "No I should be back Monday afternoon."
He paused again, "Bye Dear, see you tonight."
He gently replace the handset on the cradle and sat down in the
leather lined comfort of his chair smiling to himself and looking
out over the early morning cityscape of London.
Coughing slightly Jack boarded the driverless electric train
bound for Bow Church. Settling back in his seat Jack let the
evening schedule roll through his head. By the time he had
reached the end of the list the train was slowing into its
approach to Bow Church station and Jack stood up to get off.
Outside the station the weather was unusually cool and rainwater
still formed puddles that splashed as Jack walked up Bow High
Street. Crossing the road at the pelican crossing he turned right
and up Addington Road towards the brothel. Pausing at the
battered and peeling door of the crumbling terrace Jack pressed
the bell badly wired to the jamb. Looking up briefly while
waiting for the door to be opened Jack made out the words, faded
to near illegibility by time and weather, 'Addington Road Youth
Hostel'. The door opened slowly to reveal a small boy standing
under the lintel. Quickly glancing down the grey and deserted
street, Jack stepped inside.
The bare pine staircase creaked underneath Jack's weight as he
stomped his way towards the reception area. The small boy
struggled to keep up with the angry man as the events at
breakfast that morning were recounted to him.
"What do you mean he just fainted?" Jack said, having problems
keeping his anger in check.
"H-h-he sort of stood up and then went down for the count," the
boy tried to explain adding a belated, "Sir" after seeing the
look on Jack's already sharp face.
"What? No provocation, nothing to make him collapse?" Jack probed
pointedly.
Disliking where this line of questioning was going, the boy just
stared at his feet and replied, "No, sir..."
Seething, Jack growled and made his way up another flight of
stairs to the common room.
The common room's thin door hit the yellowed wall with a
resounding thud that punctuated Jack's entrance better than a
fanfare on polished brass ever could hope. Ten remaining pairs of
eyes looked up from the seating area and quickly shied away from
the broiling cloud dancing inside his pupils. His eyes darted
around the small room and rested upon the spasming frame of James
curled up into himself, muttering and whimpering. A lone, salty
tear was sliding slowly down James' cheek towards his slightly
puffy lips. Jack pulled himself up and marched over to where Tom
was lounging.
"What happened then?" Jack just managed to choke out.
Tom just looked up and smiled with a catlike grin. Jack just
reached out and grabbed his face and pulled him up 'til their
eyes were level.
"Damn you whore! What happened?" Jack's rage was incandescent.
Tom's eyes scoured Jack's face briefly and liking what he saw, he
smiled again before replying softly, "Don't call me that ever
again." Tom spat in Jack's face causing him to be dropped heavily
onto the ground. He got up and was followed out by his entourage.
Sighing gently to himself, Jack wiped his face with a
handkerchief and walked over to the sleeping form of James.
Bending down, he picked him up and started carrying him awkwardly
down the stairs to James' musty room.
Setting the heavily sweating James down on his bed, Jack let a
brief smile flicker across his lips as he stroked James' hair out
of his eyes absently. Sighing once more he looked around the
decrepit room and walked out shutting the door carefully behind
him.
After 48 hours of bed rest and haunted thoughts, James finally
felt well enough to reenter the common room. Opening the creaky
door, the room once again went silent and a giggle past through
the group. A shadow past over him, making him look up into the
sneer of Tom. James cringed at the memory of what happened just
half a week prior at the hands of the older teen in front of him.
His feet scrabbled at the floor as if trying to hide in the dust
filled crack between the floorboards. Glancing to either side of
the nightmare man in front of him, James saw three more
silhouettes coalesce as one spoke.
"Tosser, got you now."
Tom looked across and grinned at Ben, "Ben, care for the first
punch?"
Ben smiled but without humour as he grabbed hold of James'
throat, "Like I said, got you now."
"Wait!" Chris tapped Ben to make him pause, "Jack is coming back
soon. Don't do anything now."
"Are you defending this pile of crap?" Ben countered.
"No, just trying to stop us from being kicked out."
Tom looked thoughtful for a second and looked over at the dark
figure of Shaun in the background, "What do you think Shaun?"
He nodded towards Chris and started to walk away.
"Right then," Tom indicated to the battling henchmen to come with
him and he began to walk off but not before giving James a swift
kick in the stomach, "Faggot."
James just watched them walk back to their old, torn sofa taking
deep gulping breaths. He gradually became aware of a new shadow
slipped over him but where the one before had a sneer in it, this
one had a look of concern.
"Hey," Paul said, softly.
"Hey too," James managed a weak smile.
Paul offered his hand and helped James onto his feet, "What did
they want?"
James smile slipped slightly. He dusted himself down a bit before
replying plainly, "They hate me."
Paul tried to put his arm around the stricken boy but James
flinched at the touch so Paul returned his arm to his side, "Who
hates you?"
"Everyone," James' pain was now flowing freely into every word.
"Come on, I don't hate you!"
"You will soon enough. Everyone does in the end. Them, my school
friends, Jack, D..." James broke off and looked away, blinking
back tears, towards the sofa, "Look at them. They do what they
want, why not me?"
"Here, my name's Paul. What's yours?"
The light had long since faded, and the last client left, for the
evening from James room. Lying back in his bed, he tossed and
turned, listening to his bed creak under the shifting weight.
Resigning himself to a measure of insomnia, he thought about the
previous day's events. The confrontation with Tom was unpleasant
but somehow even after that he felt slightly better. Paul
actually listened and, or at least seemed to, care about what he
had to say no matter how banal it was. He quietly drifted off,
looking forward to speaking to Paul in the morning.
The road extended infinitely far in both directions, a uniform
ribbon that bisected the land. The sky was painted grey and blue
with the oppression of thunder clouds but no rain fell in the
impossibly parched air. While mostly still, small breezes
occasionally flitted past, taking tumbleweed and dust on journeys
across the earth. The earth either side of the road was itself
dried and cracked. Large fissures weaved their way across the
surface like natural crazy paving that fell away from the dark
band as far as the eye could see. It was a very flat land with
few plants or outcroppings to break the monotonous horizon. What
the blasted country lacked in interesting landscape, however, it
made up with dust and heat. Each put a distinct edge on the
other, while the sheer quantity of both was overwhelming and
increased the suffocating atmosphere that filled the place. It
was on this land that James found himself, standing on the hot
tarmacadam while shielding his eyes against a momentary dust
cloud. Coughing slightly, he picked a direction on the road and
set off into the unknown distance.
After walking for what seemed to be hours, James became aware of
a sound on the edge of hearing. Stopping and panting slightly
from the oppressive heat, he turned to see what was making the
noise. His bare, dust-chafed chest heaved in panic as he saw a
liquid column of shadows forming from cold points of absolute
darkness with the sound of thousands of locusts humming from
within. Backing slowly away from the spectre, he was unable to
look away. The evil void in the scenery sucked hungrily at his
mind, reading his thoughts. The sensation was increased by the
unexpected silence as the sound stopped. Suddenly, the shadow
cloud reared up and with an earsplitting, guttural roar jumped
into the bone dry ground which rippled and seethed from the pain
of the intrusion. James let out a breath he hadn't been aware he
was holding and collapsed down onto his red, raw knees. His head
was reeling from the adrenaline rush, as it rapidly turned to a
debt and demanded to be repaid with interest. The constant dull,
grey light beat down onto his naked back, covered with dust,
stuck to his skin with bitter, salty sweat. The ground started
shaking around him as in front, it turned to the consistency of
syrup. Fear found a new footing in his heart and eyes, as with
another tremendous scream the dark monster shot out of the ground
into the low ceilinged sky. James fell back and replied with a
scream of his own as the creature began its decent. Scrabbling in
the dust, he attempted to dig himself away but to no avail. The
shadow beast was just a few feet away when it stopped and hung
there in a seeming taunt to the laws of physics. Its face melted
into a cold sneer and James saw a momentary flash of red before
it began its decent once more. He looked into the black eyes,
filled with hate, opened his mouth to scream and...
The terror drenched sound filled his dark room. The shadows bent
in closer to listen but quickly returned to stand in the corners
and hide under furniture. The mute roar of traffic from around
the city was audible just on the edge of hearing. It formed the
sound of the night sea, sinking people in their dreams. The
silver-grey moonlight flickered as dark clouds silhouetted
themselves against the large half-disc. The metallic edge to the
light just sharpened the shadows as a sobbing James lay fearful
in his little, dirty bed.
---------------------
Sorry once more for the long delay. Writer's block set in with a
vengance and I took a long time to shake it (thanks Matt for
helping me with that :) The plot is now coming in with force so
some things will become more clear soon. As usual comments are
welcomed at jgeldart@writers-alley.com but flames are ignored.